Blood Dahlia - A Thriller (Sarah King Mysteries) by Victor Methos Read Free Book Online

Giovanni’s car, Rosen’s was the standard-issue sedan, a Ford the Bureau kept in the motor pool at least five or six years past its prime. But the interior and exterior were spotless, and as Giovanni got in, Rosen took out a handkerchief and wiped at a spot on the windshield before getting in and pulling away.
    “So wh at about where you live?” Giovanni asked.
    “ The condo is just a rental because it’s close. I have a house in Fairfax. When you get as close to retirement as I am, they don’t move you around anymore. You just kind of run out the clock.”
    “You always been in Behavioral Science?”
    “No, I started in Organized Crime. But they shuffled me around a few times after September Eleventh. This is just kind of where I landed.”
    “Really? I thought mo st agents fought to get in here.”
    Rosen grinned. “Only the new ones, who don’t know better. We have more requests for transfers than any other division. You know why?”
    Giovanni shook his head , though Rosen wasn’t looking at him.
    “It’s because most people don’t want to know what’s really going on in the world. If they knew, truly knew, how much danger we’re in every day, how could they live? Take these cars flying past us. With the kinetic energy they’re producing, they could demolish this car. Disintegrate us to nothing. And the other drivers might be mentally ill, they might be sick, they might be angry, not paying attention… they may even want to kill someone. But no one thinks about that when they get into their cars. There are things we can’t explain and just stay blind about. In Behavioral Science, a lot of that is exposed. This isn’t for everybody.”
    Giovanni stared out the window and thought back to his days in Iraq. A young man had been firing on their position from acro ss a street. They lit him up from all sides. When his unit got over there to look at the bullet-riddled corpse, the “young man” turned out to be a ten-year-old boy. The rest of the unit didn’t care, or at least pretended they didn’t. But Giovanni stayed behind, staring at the mangled body. The boy’s eyes were open, his head tilted toward Giovanni as if glaring at him accusingly. That face had never left him. It was always there.
    The neighborhood Melissa Archer lived in was primarily small family homes in a typical suburban setting. No liquor stores on the corner, no markets with bars up on the windows. The neighborhood appeared safe, the type of place you’d want to raise a family.
    They parked on the curb, and Rosen had his eyes locked on a brown house with shutters closed over all the windows. An overly large padlock hung from the gate to convey that whoever was inside definitely didn’t want to be disturbed.
    “Follow my lead,” Rosen said as he got out of the car.
    Giovanni fell behind. Technically, Rosen wasn’t his boss—just an agent with seniority. But he had a leadership quality about him that told Giovanni he had a lot to teach. Still, Giovanni wondered what exactly Rosen had done not to be promoted further. With his time in the Bureau, he should at least have been a special agent in charge of a field office, if not higher.
    Rosen got to the gates and eyed the padlock. He glanced around to make sure no one was wat ching and then hopped the three-foot fence.
    “Um…” Giovanni stammered.
    “What? We’re not searching her house. I just want to talk to her.”
    Giovanni looked both ways and then hopped the fence, too. He strolled up to the porch, making sure no neighbors had just seen them.
    “What’re you so nervous about?” Rosen said.
    “We’re trespassers.”
    He s norted. “Please. The NSA’s reading congressmen’s email, and hopping a fence makes you nervous.”
    Rosen pounded on the door far more aggressively than he needed to. The whole situation made Giovanni nervous. He was too new to understand all the rules, and definitely too new to be breaking them. The last thing he needed was a black mark in his